You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive
by ltjvt1026
Summary: Because M E Wofford always wants more, a continuation of "No Second Place Winner". It's going to be two chapters, one for Raylan, one for Willie Ray. Please R&R. Thanks.
1. Raylan

**DISCLAIMER: Justified and the songs in this work of fiction are copyrighted material that belong to their respective owners. I just **_**borrow**_** them for my stories. I promise to return them unharmed. **

**Authors Note: **I wrote my first Justified fic last month. My friend **M E Wofford** thought that it deserved a couple more chapters. So this story will have two. One for Raylan and one for Willie Ray. You might want to read that story, "No Second Place Winner". _This_ story might be a little confusing otherwise. This story is sort of a songfic. The song for this chapter is "You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive". In the season finale they used Brad Paisley's version. I happen to like Darrell Scott's. Give both a listen and decide for yourself. For the story I'm using Darrell's. Hope you enjoy it.

_**In the deep dark hills of Eastern Kentucky That's the place where I trace my bloodline And it's there I read on a hillside gravestone "You Will Never Leave Harlan Alive"**_

**September 1987**

Raylan Givens made it. He finally put Harlan County Kentucky in his rearview mirror. It hadn't been easy, but he'd had a plan. He graduated high school. The first in his family to do so. He was smart, but not smart enough for a college scholarship. He could play football. Again, not well enough for a scholarship. But he could play. So he looked around. Eastern Kentucky University had a good football program. They also offered a degree in Criminal Justice. Raylan sat down and figured out how much tuition, books, and room and board would cost for two years. With his foot in the door, Raylan would worry about years three and four once he was there.

So Raylan did something he swore he would never do. He went to work in the mines. He lived like a monk. Socked his money away and worked a part time construction laborer's job. He only went out once a month. His best buddy Boyd thought he was crazy. Pretty funny considering Boyd lived to blow shit up.

At age nineteen, after a couple near death experiences in the mines, Raylan had enough money to go to EKU. His Aunt Helen came down to the bus depot to see him off. Watched him load two duffle bags into the luggage compartment. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and promised to come to his graduation. Raylan climbed aboard the Greyhound and watched as his Aunt Helen and Harlan County got smaller and smaller

_**Where the sun comes up about ten in the morning And the sun goes down about three in the day And you fill your cup with whatever bitter brew you're drinking And you spend your life just thinking how to get away**_

**Four years later**

It was done. Raylan Givens graduated from Eastern Kentucky University with a degree in Criminal Justice. He'd made the football team, walking on and impressing the coaching staff with his drive and ferocity. He'd gotten a scholarship and years three and four took care of themselves. His senior year, he'd taken every Federal Civil Service test he could. His ambition was to be a US Marshal. Raylan was if nothing else a realist. He would, if he had to, get his foot in the door again and take _any_ Federal law enforcement job. This time things broke his way. He got an appointment to the Marshal's Service. Two weeks after graduation, he'd be in Glynco Georgia at the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center (FLETC).

At his interview, the personnel officer told him, "If you take this job, you have to leave Kentucky and we can't guarantee you'll be coming back."

To which Raylan replied, "That'll be fine by me."

Keeping her promise, his Aunt Helen came for graduation. His dad, Arlo, was God knows where, doing God knows what.

After the ceremony, Aunt Helen found him in the milling crowd of graduates and their families. She gave him a hug and kissed his cheek.

"Raylan honey, I'm so proud of you. Your daddy would be too."

Givens looked around and said drily, "Yeah, I can just feel the love and pride."

Aunt Helen looked uncomfortable.

"Well, he's away on business darlin'. I know he'd be here if he could."

Raylan rolled his eyes.

"Right, business."

Aunt Helen dug into her purse and held something in her hand.

"Raylan, I know that you want to get shut of Harlan and Kentucky. But you'll always be Kentucky born and bred. This belonged to your uncle and I'm sure he'd want you to have it."

She opened her hand and there was a ring with a horseshoe. Raylan recognized it immediately. His uncle never took it off.

"How'd you get it? I figured Uncle Steve was buried with it."

Aunt Helen smiled.

"Before those scumbags from Duke Power killed him, he told me that he wanted you to have it if anything happened to him. I asked the undertaker to get it. I've been saving it for the right time."

"Thanks Aunt Helen."

"Raylan honey, even though you'll be wherever you're gonna be Kentucky is where you're from. It's shaped you and made you who you are. Hopefully that ring will remind you of that."

Over the years, more than once, the ring did exactly that.

**Gator's Place April 20, 2009 1535hrs**

Deputy US Marshal Raylan Givens was ready. He stood, feet shoulder width apart, hands and arms loose. It was going to go one of two ways. Willie Ray Bayard would give up and submit to the arrest. Or he would try and shoot it out. Either way would be fine with Raylan. The twenty eight year old felon was currently mulling over his limited options.

_If I was a gamblin' man, I'd wager he's gonna try and kill me._

It had been tried twice before in Raylan's career. Both times the felons came out on the losing end. Raylan watched Willie Ray's hands carefully.

_All that bullshit about a man's eyes givin' you advance warning he's gonna pull is just that, __**bullshit**__. No officer has ever been killed by a crook's __**eyes.**__ It's the hands that do the killin'. You watch their hands son._

Words of wisdom from Deputy US Marshal Tucker McQueene, Chief Firearms Instructor Emeritus at FLETC. So Givens watched Willie Ray's hands, hoping a killing was not going to ensue.

No such luck. Willie Ray went for it and Raylan put him down. Knowing where he put his shots, Givens just watched as Willie Ray breathed his last.

Later while filling out the mind numbing amount of paperwork that goes with killing someone in the line of duty, Raylan thought about William Raymond Bayard.

_This guy never had a chance. It was like he was on rails to that moment in Gator's Place. I was the last stop on the line._

This final thought on Willie Ray Bayard bothered Raylan for months to come.

_**Where the sun comes up about ten in the morning And the sun goes down about three in the day And you fill your cup with whatever bitter brew you're drinkin' And you spend your life diggin' coal from the bottom of your grave.**_

**A/N: **In my writing I have a tendency to go "back in the day". It's fun to flesh out the characters with stories from before the show. I do it over in the NCIS fandom, and I'll probably do it here too. The next chapter will be about Willie Ray.


	2. Willie Ray

**Disclaimer: Justified is not mine, never will be. It belongs to Elmore Leonard, the best crime novelist in America.**

**Author's Note: **The RW has been keeping me away from the keyboard. It's been for good stuff though. Saw my oldest, who's in Army ROTC graduate from the Basic Airborne Course (Jump School) at Ft. Benning GA, went to FL for vacation. Going to try to finish this story. Willie Ray is hard. The way I drew him he really has no redeeming qualities. This is my first attempt at writing a bad guy. Hope it doesn't suck too much. As I said in the first chapter, Willie Ray was inspired by the song "Castleneck" by Cliff Wagner & Old #7.

"_**when the grim reaper cut him down, drove him to the sky, there was no one else around, no one said goodbye, just glad to see him die"**_

**Gator's Place, April 20, 2009 1535hrs.**

If you asked William Raymond Bayard, he'd tell you. He's made a lot of mistakes in his life. His final and fatal mistake is about to happen. When he came out of Starke, Willie Ray swore he'd never go back inside again. Now, US Deputy Marshal Raylan Givens is going to try and arrest him?

_Not Happening._

_I can take him; I can take him,.Take. Him._

The voice was back. The same voice in his head, he heard any time gunplay was imminent. Willie Ray had a Llama 9mm semi-auto pistol stuck in his waistband.

_If I can snake her out fast enough, I'll get him._

"You're not takin' me to jail."

Willie grabbed the grip of the 9mm and pulled. The hammer snagged on his shirt.

_DAMN!_

Just as the shirt ripped, Willie Ray saw flame erupt from the muzzle of the Marshal's pistol. His own weapon was clear and coming up when he felt two blows to his chest. Involuntarily his right hand clenched and the Llama discharged into the floor.

_WAIT,WHAT! I'm SHOT. Goddamn, that Marshal is fast!_

Bayard felt his butt hit the floor. The 9mm felt like it weighed a ton and he couldn't hold it anymore. It hit the floor at about the same time his back did. Suddenly he was looking up at the ceiling of Gator's Place and Willie Ray couldn't catch his breath.

_Gotta get up, gotta get up, I GOTTA GET UP!_

His muscles wouldn't obey him and he just laid there. His lungs were burning as he tried to suck oxygen in. The edges of his vision were closing in towards the center and the ceiling looked like he was falling away from it. Marshal Givens came into his sight, pistol pointed at Willie Ray.

_JESUS, is he gonna shoot me again?_

But all the Marshal did was look down at Willie Ray, pistol lowering to his side. Willie Ray could swear he saw something that looked like regret cross the other man's face.

_It almost looks like he's sorry he shot me. Weird. If I'd done him, I'd left here laughin'._

Bayard started to feel cold and his mouth opened and closed like a gaffed fish.

_Can't get any air. Gotta Breathe._

Willie Ray's sight started to fail and he thought he could hear somebody trying to speak to him, but it was too soft for Willie Ray to hear.

_It sure as shit ain't the Marshal, who is it?_

It was William Raymond Bayard's last earthly thought.

"…**..satan sits on his left shoulder with fire on his breath, he whispers to him softly, put your evil soul to rest"**

**A/N: **Kinda short I know. My muse is probably still on vacation. If it did suck, rest assured I'll try and do better the next time. Attention NCIS fans, yes M E that means you, a new Mike Franks story is in the works. And for all you Justified fans, a new Raylan story too.


End file.
